Stories are the framework by which we see ourselves and the world. Stories are identity.
This is my life’s philosophy. So, to introduce myself: this is the story that I tell myself about myself.
My name is Libby. I come from a family of six people and a cat: two younger sisters, a little brother, both my parents. There is little that is unique about my background. I grew up in a small town, for a large city, before moving to the Portland metro. My childhood is best explained in movies about adolescent baseball teams of underdogs, in which everything is dusty but clothed in golden light. Friday Night Lights and The Dead Poet Society embody my high school years. I am maternal towards my friends, persnickety when stressed, outgoing while introverted. I have five tattoos and three non-earlobe piercings. I place a high value on perspective, but I form opinions quickly and hold onto them tightly.
Beautiful things call to me. I look for the light and the Light, though my first instinct is to see darkness. Ironically, I’m terrified of the dark. One of my favorite English words is “adore,” because love is too common and too simple, to capture the true meaning of love, and what it is to be Loved. (My favorite French word is the verb poireauter which means, roughly, to wait.)
I adore stories. I write them to be known, and I read them to know others.